Christmas at the Crosswire's
by Chrys-DASL
Summary: Millicent is set to host the annual Crosswire Christmas party, except this year she isn't feeling it. She decides to seek out help to end her depression. Does it work in time? For my 10x10 Challenge/NaNo2018


Millicent (9): holiday event prep (2)

 _Christmas at the Crosswire's_

I should have told him no. Ed always insists we have this huge gathering at our house on Christmas Even every year, but I should have said no this time. Muffy is sixteen and wants to invite half the town, plus half the town will already be here anyway, and I should have told him I wasn't interested this year.

Normally I love Christmas. It gives me an excuse to go shopping, to charge things to the credit card without Ed saying a single word, namely because he's doing it too. Christmas is when we can really show our love to each other and load up on presents. I love the crafts aspect too—we hand-make cookies a week before Christmas every year, and we always hand-make the wreath that hangs in the front entryway. I love decorating things, and I try to put a Christmas tree in as many rooms as possible. Ever since Muffy was old enough, we've let her do one in her room. It's almost as tall as the main one in the living room most years, but it's hers to do whatever she wants with.

But this year, something clicked. I have no idea when it happened or why it did, but I'm not interested in the holidays. I tolerated Thanksgiving, and it wasn't just because we could only do Ed's family this year since my mother wanted to do a weeklong Thanksgiving cruise. He thinks it is, but he's wrong, dead wrong. If that was the problem, why do I still feel like I want to hibernate like a bear, just lock myself up in the master bedroom and never come out?

I've even scheduled an appointment with a counselor. I haven't done that in years, not since we struggled for so long to have Muffy. I needed someone to talk to then, and this just feels similar, so I've signed up to go.

But I have to get through the rehearsal first. Two weeks before the Christmas party, Bailey and the rest of us have to be done with the decorating so that Ed can tell us how things will happen. So early in the morning, when the chill still grabs at you through your clothes, he has us go outside and stand in the entryway.

"Alright, the guests will come in here. Bailey, open the doors," Ed said into his headset. Suddenly the doors opened at once, almost like a fairytale. Ed smiled, "He will take our coats and another member of the help will store them in the downstairs sitting room—thank you Bailey," Ed said, handing off his coat along with the others.

Ed led us through the entryway under some mistletoe, "A photographer will be here to get kiss pictures for the Christmas album we're posting online. It's all professional. Let me know if you need the number."

"Daddy, my classmates might not want their photos all over the internet—"

"They won't be, Muffin. Ask me later, this is important," he said quickly, coming to a sudden halt in the middle of the living room, "The tree will be finished tonight. Everyone will gather here for drinks and conversation. This will last for approximately two hours to give the kitchen staff enough time for the food. If we need to, we'll do speeches here to give them more time. That part can switch," he said, rushing into the dining room. The adults would be here while the teens would be in the breakfast room, crammed in but out of the way so no one could hear their crude jokes.

Ed continued, "I will stand here in this breezeway to give speeches if I need to do them during dinner. When dinner is complete—and we'll have over an hour to eat—everyone will return to that room there," he pointed, barreling through us to return to where the grand Christmas tree would stand, "and we will have gifts for everyone."

It was too much. Guess who had to buy all those gifts? Me. Guess who didn't want to buy all those gifts? Also me, but I couldn't say a word. Ed was so proud of this, so I went along with it.

But I also went to the counseling office and filled out all the paperwork. After what felt like an eternity, I was called back into the room. The doctor wasn't my same one from before, but this time I wasn't having fertility and other family issues. This time it was personal. This time it was about me.

"Mrs. Crosswire, thank you for having the courage to come forward. You mentioned on your forms that you have a general feeling of apathy. Can you tell me more about it?"

I nodded, snuggling into the deep couch, "Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, second only to Halloween and Thanksgiving. This year, things have been different. Starting back in November, I just didn't want to do any of it. I got through Halloween just fine. I even let my daughter host a costume party for her friends. When November rolled around, I wanted no part of that, and now it's December. Every year, we throw this huge party and go all-out, but I'm not interested this year."

"How do you feel about the holidays?"

"I feel nothing," I admitted, tossing up my hands, "I don't feel upset or angry or overwhelmed. I honestly feel nothing at all."

"For the last month?"

I nodded, "For the past month, every day. It's a struggle to even get out of bed, and there's so much to do. I make a list and check each box, but it's an obligation. It never felt like that before."

"Has anything changed in your life? Has anyone passed away? Has your relationship status changed? Has anything happened with your children?" he asked, watching closely as I kept shaking my head. He nodded, "Well, I'm going to give you some homework and ask you to come back next week. I do this will all of my patients with symptoms like yours. It's a quiz to see if you might be depressed. It was put together by a specialist in their field, and it has given me quite a bit of insight in the past. You'll complete it and bring it back as soon as you can, then I'll discuss your results at your appointment next week," he explained, handing me a folder.

I accepted it and finished up at the desk, but I didn't wait until I got home to complete the quiz. I did it all in the car, answering every question as honestly as I could. It took another forty-five minutes, but if it meant getting answers, so be it.

[LINE BREAK]

When I returned to the doctor, he confirmed that I was depressed. When we went over treatment options, I decided to jump straight for the pills. I had never taken antidepressants, not even in the past when things were so awful. I never thought I'd be someone who needed them, yet here I was regretting the holidays instead of looking forward to them.

After a two-hour wait at the pharmacy, I had my medication. I read all of the inserts about it, and without hesitation, I took my first pill. It wasn't magic. The doctor warned me it could be weeks before I felt any change, but it was empowering just to take that first pill. It was a step in the right direction even if it would take so long.

I returned home and did my shopping online. Party favors were going to be simple this year—I ordered fifty of a few different items in a variety of colors. I used a warehouse website to get a better deal, but it was still expensive. Part of me wondered if half the people who came every year were just there for these gifts—they were quality products that some of them couldn't afford on their own. I guess we were just spreading the holiday cheer, huh?

At dinner that night, Muffy and Ed gushed over the guest list—Ed finally got the mayor to agree, and Muffy said her crush was going to be there. They kept going back and forth, and I finally just left the table. Seeing them so happy was making me sick, so I locked myself in one of the guest bedrooms with my laptop. I browsed the internet, trying to look up craft ideas on Pintrest to see if that would give me the boost I needed, but nothing helped.

I took my next pill the following morning and went through my day, ordering food from our preferred vendors before sitting with Ed all afternoon for staff interviews. It was draining me, and I honestly felt more tired than I ever had. The doctor told me that was part of it, but was depression really so exhausting? How could I be so tired from not doing anything? It was a horrible thought, but at least Ed was having dinner with someone else and I didn't have to attend. Muffy was out with friends, leaving me with the house.

I walked through, studying the decorations closely. I made the wreath like always, and I'd started on the centerpieces the weekend before, but nothing felt right. I felt no Christmas cheer, no desire to play Mrs. Claus. I just felt like nothing.

[LINE BREAK]

After a week of preparations on their part and no change in mind, Ed finally noticed. He'd been so caught up in his own responsibilities that he hadn't thought of me at all. He didn't notice I wasn't part of the conversation because I was there, didn't that mean I was participating?

But he finally noticed. We'd gone to bed and I was laying there pretending to scroll through Christmas ideas online, but I was really killing time before bed, not even looking at whatever went past my eyes.

Ed sighed, "You're not feeling the Christmas spirit, are you Millie?" he asked.

I shook my head, "No, but I'm trying, Ed, I really am. You won't believe the lengths I've gone to just to try to feel. It hasn't worked yet, Ed. I don't think it's going to," I said, looking up to him, "But I'm trying for you guys, okay?"

"Do you want to skip the party?"

"Oh no, I couldn't do that to you—"

"What, sit up here in the quiet? I wouldn't mind at all. You never liked all that schmoozing anyway, and if you're not up for it, you're not up for it. I can understand that, and you should've asked me. I would have told you yes," he said firmly.

I sighed, "But my dress—"

"Will keep until next year. You can wear it then," he suggested.

"What about Muffy? She's going to be so disappointed in me—"

"I don't see why she would be. She won't even notice anyway with all her friends swarming the place. We're an afterthought to her on nights like that," Ed grinned, taking my hand, "Sit it out, but if you want to come down, you can. I'll send up a plate and record the speech for you if you'd like."

"You can send up a plate," I smiled, squeezing his hand, "I'll watch Christmas movies while I'm here and try to get into the spirit, but…I make no guarantees, Ed."

"That's fine with me," he said, kissing me softly.

I closed my laptop and tried to sleep. My dreams were all darkness lately, so they weren't calling out to me as much. I lay there awake, thinking about how bad I must look for Ed to notice and recommend me not go to the party. He sounded supportive at least, but part of me wondered if he was just saving face. He would send up a plate, I'm sure, and he wouldn't complain now, but wouldn't he complain later?

[LINE BREAK]

When I expressed my concerns to the therapist, he merely smiled to me. Negative thoughts were a part of depression and anxiety. Your thoughts tell you people don't like you, that you're worthless, that no one wants to see your ugly face. Part of recovering is to tell those thoughts to shove off, he said, and he gave me some exercises to try. He told me to keep a journal and free-write in one color, then write over it in pink or orange or green—any bright color that I liked—and write positive things over it.

It was an exercise worth attempting. There was a stationery shop next door so I stopped inside. I bought a journal and some cute pens, charging it to my card and going right next door to a coffee shop to start. I wrote down Ed's conversation first and how I felt, then I wrote over it in red: _He loves you; he wants the best for you. Ed wants you to be happy._ I didn't believe it, but seeing the words was helpful. Maybe I could do this after all. Maybe it would actually work.

[LINE BREAK]

Ed was speechless as I descended the stairs in my holiday gown. I'd gotten my hair done that afternoon at the house, and I let Muffy do my nails for me the night before. I was all dolled up, and while I put on a fake smile, I really did want to be there at least a little bit. I still kept to myself during the mingling part of the party, and I refused to give a speech, but I made it through dinner and stood with Ed to see everyone off.

In the end, I was improving, but it was a long battle. The doctor told me depression was like a seesaw, except you couldn't see the other player. Sometimes you'd be up, and other times you'd be down. There was no controlling the switch yourself, just reading your body and following its signs. My lack of dreams was a signal, for example. Now that I was feeling better, I was dreaming again.

Depression would always be a part of me, he said, but it didn't have to control me. I could control it, and he would help me however he could. I shared my struggle with Ed, and he agreed to help me (and we both agreed not to tell Muffy). I had allies now, so I hoped it wouldn't happen so badly again.

~End

A/N: 18 of 100 pieces completed. I wrote this for my 10x10 Challenge. You can find more info about this challenge on my profile. Feel free to ask questions about it, and please shoot me a PM if you want to participate. I'd love to see everyone's responses.


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